A Pirate's Life For Me
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: Distraught with grief, sixth year Harry Potter tries to change the past...and ends up with far more than he bargained for. A tale of murder, vengeance, swashbuckling buccaneers, Animagi, and a horrifyingly familiar captain of the British navy.
1. Prologue A Will and a Spell

A Pirate's Life For Me by Ael L. Bolt  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama  
  
Pairings: R/Hr, H/OC (sort of)  
  
Possible Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, FB&WtFT  
  
Summary: Sixth year Harry Potter full intended to save his godfather from death by means of a time travel spell. However, his research was not thorough enough. Now, Harry and two other Hogwarts students are trapped in the 17th century without knowledge of each other's whereabouts (or even that they're there at all). Although one befalls somewhat good fortune, another one is destined to die, and the third is sentenced to a fate no one would ever expect.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me – although I be a Pirate, I haven't quite gotten my hands on that treasure quite yet. Arr!  
  
Author's Notes: This fic was originally somewhat inspired by The Road to El Dorado, but the driving force of this fic lies behind Pirates of the Caribbean. That is, without question, the best pirate movie I've ever seen.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Prologue – A Will and a Spell  
  
"I, Sirius Praedonis Black, being of sound mind and body, hereby make the following wishes known in the event of my death."  
  
The words fell heavily on the ears of one Harry James Potter as Headmaster Dumbledore read from the scroll of parchment. Although he knew there were others present for the reading of Sirius' will, he felt completely alone save for the dreaded words.  
  
"To Remus Lupin, I leave two-thirds of the Black family fortune. I know you don't like charity, but I can think of no one who deserves it more than you do. Don't let it gather dust in some bank account, use it. Buy new robes if nothing else."  
  
There was a sound that may have been intended as a laugh, but turned into a sob. Remus smiled faintly through his tears at his friend's ever-present wit, though it was somewhat diminished by the morbid topic.  
  
"To my blood relatives, I leave absolutely nothing, you undeserving slimeballs. If you really must have something, take the portrait of my mother...if you can." Dumbledore paused in the reading, looking faintly amused for a moment, then continued on solemnly.  
  
"To my godson, Harry Potter."  
  
Distantly, Harry felt Ron and Hermione hold onto his shoulders as he tensed, but he could barely feel them as he raised grief-stricken eyes to regard the parchment.  
  
"Harry, I am leaving the following items in your care: 12 Grimmauld Place, one-third of the Black family fortune, my personal library, ownership of Buckbeak, all my school things, and the basilisk-hide gauntlet of Captain Black. The latter is in Albus' safekeeping, to be given to you immediately following this reading. Harry, I know this will never replace me, and I know I could never replace James, but I want you to know that he would have been extremely proud of the man you've become."  
  
There was more addressed to other people, but Harry didn't hear a word of it. When he finally came back to himself, only his two friends and Dumbledore remained in the room. He forced himself to meet Dumbledore's eye, and the aged wizard handed him an ancient-looking, right-handed snakeskin gauntlet. Etched into the scales on the back of the hand was the infamous skull-and-crossbones symbol, with the word PRAEDONIS scrawled in an eerily familiar script underneath.  
  
Harry carefully slipped it onto his right hand and buckled it in place around the wrist. For a moment, the basilisk hide seemed to welcome him as one would welcome an old friend that hasn't been seen in many long years, but then the odd feeling passed.  
  
Suddenly filled with resolve, he shrugged the hands off his shoulders and stalked off to his new library, eyes flashing emerald flame.  
  
There was work to be done.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
'The Commutatus Antehac spell is intended to transport the caster through time to the past, and then back to the present when the caster chooses. All objects or organisms within twenty feet of the caster during the spell- casting may be caught in temporal backlash and spread out through time with the caster, and any other spells on living creatures brought through time will be removed during transit. To cast this spell, the caster must obtain an item that existed during the target time to channel the temporal energies. No wand movement is necessary aside from touching wandpoint to the item. The incantation for reverse time travel is Immigro Antea, and the incantation for the return to the present is Immigro Futurus. While casting this spell, the caster must be focused on the exact time target.'  
  
Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen at number twelve Grimmauld Place, having already taken the precaution of moving everything possible at least twenty feet away. He double-checked the book for reference, and then faced away from the door. Holding his wand to touch the basilisk-hide gauntlet, he focused intently on the events of two months ago, bringing up the mental image of himself heading into the forest to ride the thestrals to the Department of Mysteries. "Immigro-"  
  
Behind him, the lock clicked open quietly, but mid-incantation he didn't hear it until it was too late.  
  
"-Antea!"  
  
In the kitchen, three figures vanished without a trace. Left behind, the book fluttered open to the next, unnoticed page.  
  
'This spell has been placed under magical restriction from the Ministry of Magic since the late 17th century. Anyone who tries to perform this spell will find themselves unable to re-enter the timestream, and in theory, the caster and any passengers will remain in limbo for eternity. Do not perform this spell.' 


	2. Chapter One Technical Difficulties

Chapter One – Technical Difficulties

With a gust of air, Harry splashed down into the sea.

_Wha?_ He fought his way to the surface, gasping for air as the stormy waves tried to drag him back down. Choking on salty water, he spied a barrel and grabbed hold.

"Man overboard!"

There was a splash, and beefy arms encircled his waist and hoisted him up. Coughing convulsively, he kneeled on the wooden deck that had somehow appeared beneath him. A coarse blanket was draped over his shoulders as he shivered in the cold air.

"Are you all right, boy?"

Taken by surprise at the aristocratic accent, he looked up into the concerned face of a man in 17th century British naval uniform. "Wh-what?" he gasped in shock.

The officer frowned at him. "I asked if you were unharmed." He looked puzzled. "Have you been...where did you come from? Surely you could not have been out here long, but there are no other ships in sight."

Harry swallowed. "I don't know...I can't remember," he lied. Something was clouding his vision, and he swiped at his eyes.

The officer's reaction was immediate. He tore off a strip of his shirt and wrapped it across Harry's forehead, tying it securely. Startled, Harry looked down at his fingers and was surprised to see blood...lots of blood.

The strong man picked Harry up easily and took him below deck, away from prying eyes. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Uh...Sirius," he lied again, not sure if this wasn't some elaborate trap or joke. "Sirius Black."

"My name is John Hawke," the officer said, seemingly unfazed by the unusual name. "How old are you, Sirius?"

Harry winced as John set him on a bunk and washed off the blood on his forehead. "I'm fifteen." Sensing John's curiosity, he wracked his brain for a good story. "The last thing I remember is being at home...and then suddenly I was in the ocean."

Hawke nodded slowly. "Perhaps you were struck on the head. It would explain your injury and memory trouble."

By now, Harry had figured out that he was on some sort of ship. "Where am I?"

"On board the _Golden Crown_, about thirty kilometers off shore of Great Britain. We'll be taking you back to shore after we've completed our mission. I'm sorry, but it's not likely to be less than a week."

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind, sir."

John gave him a strange look, but finished tying off a proper bandage over Harry's forehead – his scar, he realized. "All right Sirius, I'm going to have to leave you for awhile, but I'll be back to check on you later. All right?"

Harry nodded. "I won't be going anywhere." _And it'll give me a chance to figure out what went wrong,_ he thought to himself.

---------

"WhaaaaAAAA-oof!"

Ron spat out a mouthful of sand as he propped himself up on his elbows...and stared.

He was on an island.

An ISLAND.

There was a gasp behind him, and he turned to see Hermione. "Ron, how did we get here?" she asked. "Why are we on an island?"

Ron was too disconcerted himself to poke fun at her not knowing something. "I...I don't know." He frowned. "Before we were...um, whatever happened to us...did you hear Harry's voice?"

Hermione nodded. "I think he was casting a spell...Ron, you don't think that HARRY did this to us!"

"Maybe not on purpose," Ron mused. "But if we came along on accident, where's Harry?"

A loud boom distracted them, and they looked out to sea. There, about a kilometer offshore, were two ships firing cannons at each other. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. "Ron...we've time traveled!"

---------

"RETURN FIRE!"

Harry was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of cannonfire, and saw part of the wall blow in. "What the..."

Forgetting his promise to John, he fled up to the deck of the _Crown_. Floating on the port side was another ship, flying a black and white flag...a pirate flag.

_Pirates!_

That was as far as his thoughts got before he was grabbed from behind and pulled between his captor and John, who held a sword unsheathed. "Sirius!" the officer called anxiously.

"I'll be takin' the whelp," a voice behind him sneered as he felt the end of a pistol press against his temple. "Try to take 'im and he'll be off to Davey Jones' Locker."

Harry nearly laughed at the insanity of the situation. By now he should've rescued his godfather and been back at Grimmauld Place, but here he was, four centuries off his target date, being held hostage at gunpoint by pirates.

"And you," the pirate snarled in his ear, "won't so much 's twitch if ye want to see yer little friends get away alive, savvy?"

Harry nodded slightly, and the pirate dragged him back towards a board that connected the decks of the two ships. "Now then," the pirate called to Hawke, "ye'll be grantin' us safe passage, and I'll be keepin' the kid as insurance that ye do. Try to sink us and ye'll only kill the whelp...so if ye care fer 'im at all, ye won't try any funny business."

Hawke met Harry's eyes, as if begging him to get away somehow, but Harry didn't dare move as he was hauled aboard the pirate ship, and thrown into a small iron cell belowdecks.

---------

Ron and Hermione watched as one ship sailed away, leaving the other apparently unable to fire. As the defeated ship drifted closer to their island, Hermione spotted the flag that flew from the mast.

"Ron, it's the British navy!" She began to gather up dry wood. "Hurry, help me build a fire to get their attention before they sail away."

In no time at all they had a good bonfire going, and the British ship had come as close as it dared before launching a jollyboat. As it beached, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed – the sailors wore 17th century uniforms of the navy.

"Ahoy there!" called an officer. "Been shipwrecked, have you?"

Ron opened his mouth to tell the truth, but Hermione spoke first. "Yes, not too long ago. We'd just made it to this island when we saw your ship."

The officer hesitated. "You didn't happen to be traveling with another young man? Short black hair, strange green eyes?"

Ron's jaw dropped. "You found him? Where is he?"

The man sighed. "I am sorry. He was taken hostage by pirate no more than a quarter hour ago."

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. Harry, in the hands of pirates? This spelled trouble with a capital T.

"We'd best be getting back to the _Golden Crown_," the officer said sadly. "What are your names?"

"Holly Granger," Hermione answered, quickly shooting a warning look at Ron. "And this is Arthur West."

Ron did his best to look as if that was indeed his name. The officer frowned as they got into the boat. "You have rather unusual names. Were your parents foreign, perhaps?" At Ron's confused look he clarified, "Holly and your other friend, I mean."

"Something like that," Hermione said, evading the subject. "Did our friend leave anything behind?"

The officer pulled a wooden rod from his pocket, handing it to her. "He left this belowdecks."

Ron felt his face whiten. Bloodstained holly wood glinted deep red in the sunlight as Hermione held Harry's wand.


	3. Chapter Two Sirius Black, Cabin Boy

Author's Note: This is NOT a crossover with Pirates of the Caribbean. None of the characters from PotC will be in this story.

- - - - - - - -

Chapter Two – Sirius Black, Cabin Boy

Harry looked up as a tall, strangely kind-looking (compared to most) pirate stopped in front of his cell. "You be the one Chasey used for a hostage, ain't ye?"

Harry nodded slowly, untrusting. This _was_ a pirate, after all. "I am."

"What's yer name, boy?"

"Sirius Black." No point in not being consistant – Hawke had yelled it for all to hear.

"Then yer not Hawke's boy?" The pirate sounded vaguely surprised.

Harry shook his head. "He's just the one who...rescued me. I was shipwrecked earlier."

The pirate considered that, then took out a key ring and unlocked the cell. At Harry's dumbstruck look, he grinned. "No sense in lettin' ye be uncomfortable. From now on, ye're a guest aboard the _Serpent's Helm_." He made a short bow, which was really more of a fancy nod. "Cap'n William Spaniel at yer service, young Master Black."

Captain Spaniel was a decent man, Harry had to conclude after a tour of the _Serpent's Helm_. Though somewhat lacking in career, he honestly cared for his crew and his ship. He had confessed to Harry that he'd rather plunder than beg, but he never killed unless he had to. That alone would have made him okay in Harry's book.

"So," Spaniel said once they were back on deck, "Where do ye come from, lad?"

Harry barely stopped himself from saying "Surrey." Instead he answered, "Nowhere in particular."

Spaniel nodded, unsurprised. "Aye, as are we all." He hesitated. "If ye have nowhere to be, what say you to a job in this here fine ship?"

Harry looked up, startled at the offer. "You're...offering me a...job?"

Spaniel laughed at his expression. "What, ye thought pirates don't hafta work? Tell ye what, boy...you work as me cabin boy, and I'll teach ye how t' be a proper sailor. Do we have an accord?"

Harry was quick to weigh his options. Refuse and be lost in unfamiliar territory for perhaps the rest of his life, or accept and find a guide of sorts until he could get back home. Making up his mind, he grinned and shook the pirate captain's hand. "We do indeed, Captain."

Ron leaned over the railing, staring into the dark ocean as if it'd give up its secrets. Above him, the stars shone bright, undampened by modern lighting.

A small sound of shoes on wood alerted him to Hermione's approach. "You're still thinking about him."

Ron sighed. "He's out there somewhere, probably being tortured or...I dunno, enslaved or something. How can we not act when he's in pain?"

Hermione put a supporting hand on his shoulder. "Because we don't know where to look. I feel like we should help him too, but we really can't so anything at the moment."

Ron straightened suddenly. "No, we can't...but I know how to fix that." Turning, he strode to the helm. "Commander Hawke," he said to the nightwatch helmsman, "what do I have to do to join the navy?"

Two hours later, Ron returned with a grim smile. "All I have to do is prove my worth and my loyalty," he said to Hermione. "Apparently I can prove my worth easily enough by helping the crew, but he said to prove loyalty I have to wait for an opportunity."

Hermione nodded. "Well, it's a start."

Ron gazed over the distant dark of the horizon. _Hold on Harry, we're coming for you._

"Gold and silver and jewels abound, treasured islands to be found, navy ships for us to sink, so we can get more rum to drink!"

Harry smiled at the slurred song of Eightfingers Morgan. The _Serpent's Helm_ had docked somewhere near Germany, and half the crew immediately bolted for their favorite tavern. Eightfingers had introduced their new cabin boy to rum, but Harry wisely refrained from drinking great amounts of the alcohol, preferring instead to watch his new shipmates act like fools instead.

"Ye there, Siravas kid, come sing with ol' Eightfingers," the pirate said drunkenly, tubbing on Harry's sleeve.

The cabin boy didn't bother to correct the mispronunciation. "No thanks, I haven't had quite enough rum for that yet," he apologized with a grin, holding up his mostly-full mug.

Eightfingers shrugged, and staggered over to a bar wench and dragged her, giggling, into the festivities. Harry sighed, shaking his head. _This certainly is odd company,_ he mused, taking a sip of rum. _Never thought I'd find myself drinking rum with pirates._

Captain Spaniel slid into a chair across the table. "Enjoying yerself?" he asked as he set down a heavy tankard.

"Considering I've never been to a tavern nor drank alcohol, I think I'm doing fine," Harry replied with a smile.

Spaniel laughed. "True enough, young Black." He nodded towards Eightfingers. "Ye might wanna avoid him in th' morning, he'll have a dreadful headache." He looked down at Harry's rum. "But yer not, apparently. Smart lad."

Harry ignored the light jibe. "So, what's next on the agenda, Captain?"

Spaniel looked amused. "No agenda. If we see or hear of somethin' worth goin' after, we do. If not, we sail and avoid the bloody navy." His eyes glinted as he drank. "So, cabin boy, what skills ye got? Any thievery, gunfights, swordplay?"

Harry started to shake his head, then stopped. "I've used a sword once," he said, remembering the sword of Godric Gryffindor and the Chamber of Secrets. "And I've also done a little bit of stealing," he admitted, recalling instances when he used to sneak food at Privet Drive and also Ron and himself 'comandeering' the Weasley's Ford Anglia. "No guns, though."

Spaniel grinned. "Well, yer off to a good start. How'd ye like me to teach ye?"

Harry felt a twinge of doubt. "You want me to learn to shoot people?"

"Aye, the captain said regretfully. "A necessary evil in this profession, that is. Ye've also got to learn more about swords, I reckon. Tell ye what, tomorra I'll take ye to pick out yer own pistol and cutlass from Dead Jim's. In return, ye'll work yer hardest to learn these skills and once ye can hold yer own I'll promote ye from cabin boy to pirate crewer. What say you?"

Harry didn't particularly want to learn to kill people, especially while serving with pirates, but they'd likely end up killing him if he refused or ran away. Slowly, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
